


piece of shit cat

by prettybo_y



Series: harringrove collection [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cats, Disabled Cat, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, Rehabilitation, Swearing, blind cat, but for the cat, fuck you s3 and fuck you neil hargrove, idk how to tag this but i’ll fix it later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 05:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybo_y/pseuds/prettybo_y
Summary: billy groans, taking out one of the dish towels he bought and picks it up gingerly. its meowing picks up as he sets it inside the grocery bag with packaged things (there’s no way he’s letting the little shit touch any of the fresh food) and continues his walk home, taking a glance now and then. what is he doing?he knows exactly what he’s doing. he’s gonna get this shitty little cat and nurse it back to health. it’s not a huge redemption, but it’s redemption nonetheless.





	piece of shit cat

he sees the fucking _gremlin_ when he’s walking home with the groceries. steve insists on using the giant reusable bags his mom told them to use despite him hating her guts. so he’s manhandling these ridiculous bags down the street when he hears something. it’s weak and small but it pulls billy to follow it.

it’s disgusting. a ratty, little tabby cat covered in dirt and probably its own shit. its eyes are bulging and infected and there’s no way it can see out of those milky motherfuckers. it’s small and bones and how the hell did it survive this long? from what it seems like, it was abandoned.

billy groans, taking out one of the dish towels he bought and picks it up gingerly. its meowing picks up as he sets it inside the grocery bag with packaged things (there’s no way he’s letting the little shit touch any of the fresh food) and continues his walk home, taking a glance now and then. what is he doing?

he knows exactly what he’s doing. he’s gonna get this shitty little cat and nurse it back to health. it’s not a huge redemption, but it’s redemption nonetheless.

billy sets it on the kitchen counter so he can keep a close eye on it while he puts away the food. it meows even though it doesn’t seem like it has the energy to move. maybe this was a lost cause.

he picks it up and takes the bus to the vet’s anyways. if this shit dies, which it wouldn’t, he doesn’t want it dying on his table. the vet doesn’t think the cat has a strong chance, but prescribes the care regimen and medicine anyways.

billy gets the food, and water, and whatever else he needs to make sure this rascal stays alive. piece of shit cat. it’s dumb luck that it survived this long. he washes the grime and stench off of its- his fur gently. it takes a while and billy actually gags more than once but hey, what can you do. squeaky clean and a lot more pleasant when he’s done. those eyes though. it makes him shudder in disgust. “you ain’t pretty to look at, kid,” he mumbles, picking him up in a hand towel they had lying around. he doesn’t want to break the thing.

“babe, what the fuck is that?” steve asks when he gets home from work. billy is laying on the couch with the music playing, feeding the scraggly thing who’s eating like it’s his last meal. it just might be.

“it’s a kitten, dipshit. the russians really did knock a couple of screws loose,” he replies coldly, still accepting the kiss steve plants on his cheek. “trying to see if the little shit will live. vet says if he does, he’ll remove the eyes.”

“yeah, those golf balls are obsolete.” billy doesn’t turn around, instead he listens to steve walk into the kitchen and get started with dinner. he stares down this bastard with a look that screams _if you don’t live, i’ll be so pissed._

he’s so scared for this damn thing, more than he’ll admit. billy’s grinning when he sees the thing actually gain some weight, a round stomach that’d rival dad bod hopper, but then he shits it right back out, on the floor. he cleans it up with a frown.

this routine repeats over the next two weeks. and over those next two weeks, billy slips a bit behind on work, loses a tiny bit more sleep. the son of a bitch sleeps often, and it’s terrifying. billy makes sure to touch his stomach or chest every half minute, to make sure he’s still breathing. to make sure his heart is still beating. it’s tiny, the rise and fall of his stomach, but it’s there. and so is his tiny little heartbeat.

billy’s never had a kitten, but he knows it should be energetic to some degree. this fucker just lays around. he’s probably angry that steve put a cone around him to protect his eyes at least a little bit, even though billy’s not sure it’d work. it’s cute though. whenever he runs around or nibbles and fights with billy’s hand, it’s a small victory. it gives him hope he knows he shouldn’t latch on to.

-

steve wakes up from a nightmare he barely remembers. he just sees neon lights and black goo when he tries to look back on it. it’s probably for the better that he doesn’t remember. after calming down to some degree, he realizes billy’s not next to him.

steve swallows down some water from the bathroom sink before shuffling to the living room. a lamp is on, illuminating the side of his partner’s face. he’s talking softly.

“we love the shit out of you. so you’re kind of obligated to live.” a sigh. a sniffle. “okay, i need you to live. so, so badly. you wouldn’t have survived this long to give up. i’ve given you antibiotics, let you shit everywhere but your litter box, let you destroy my second favorite sweater. max gave that to me, you lil shit. the least you could do is get all big and strong like me. survive the surgery, get those nasty shits out, and i’ll name you.”

steve sets down two cups of tea, trading one cup to billy for the kitten. he sits down next to him and feels billy relax completely against his shoulder as he sips it. it’s not long before he hears him snore lightly, leaning against him and the couch.

he looks down at the kitten whose eyes just stares into his soul, which creeps him out. he’s still cute though. like… tim burton creepy cute. he finishes his tea and sets it down. carefully, he sets a finger over his stomach to feel it rise and fall. the son of a bitch attacks his finger until he pulls it away. steve’s eyebrows furrow when he huffs. of course the little bastard hates him.

-

axton is high as a kite when he gets to leave the vets hospital. he’s sleeping in the cat carrier they got him, tongue sticking out slightly.

“you should’ve named him bastard.”

“uh, axton is a badass name. because he’s a badass cat. leave it,” billy chuckles, kissing steve when they hit a red light.

“bastard hates me.”

“he doesn’t. he just likes me more.” steve’s doing that cute, little pouty face billy adores and it just makes him laugh louder. now he has _two_ adorable things in his life that he can be good to. he doesn’t break everything he touches. _he’s enough. _

suck it, neil.


End file.
